


the bro-code doesn't have a bylaw for this

by heyfightme



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Assumed Heterosexuality, Coming Out, F/F, Secret Relationship, compulsory heterosexuality, lesbian Lardo, the Bro Code
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 01:31:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13730268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfightme/pseuds/heyfightme
Summary: It's only when Lardo manages to collapse next to Camilla on the bed, throbbing and a little winded, that she remembers. She watches Camilla lick her lips, and thinksthat mouth has also kissed Jack.There are so many bylaws she's breaking.Lardo is nothing if not a good bro. Dating one of her best friend's exes, though? A definite violation of the bro-code.





	the bro-code doesn't have a bylaw for this

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this and posted it on tumblr a while ago, when I wasn't putting 'shorter' fics up on AO3. I always mean to write more femslash, and I consistently fail myself. It's a whole guilty thing.
> 
> Anyway, although it's not canon and probably stands no chance of ever being so, I love Lesbian Lardo. I think her personality and tendency to make more dude friends than chick friends makes her really interesting for thinking about comp het and other lesbo woes. I also love playing around with Camilla Collins. 10/10 definitely my favourite background character to turn into what is basically an OC (b ᵔ▽ᵔ)b
> 
> I also, also love Lardo's relationship with Jack. I could write thousands and thousands of words of them just sharing sex deets with each other. True Bros™
> 
> I've been going through my writing folder to sort through what I want to post here, and I know I had to upload this one. It's one of my favourite things I've done, truthfully. I sincerely hope that you enjoy it too!
> 
> ★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

Lardo is riding Camilla’s face, hands pressed to the wall and chin tucked to her chest with eyes squeezed shut, when she decides she may need to tell Jack.

 

As it is, though, the thought is short-lived: Camilla’s hands dig themselves into Lardo’s ass, encouraging her to grind against the flat of her tongue. Lardo’s eyes fly open. She gasps out a low and shaky, “oh _shit_.” Camilla pulls her to grind harder.

 

It’s only when Lardo manages to collapse next to Camilla on the bed, labia throbbing and lungs a little winded, that she remembers. Camilla is poking gingerly at her own nose, musing, “I think you nearly broke it,” and Lardo snorts and presses her hands to flaming cheeks. She watches Camilla lick her lips, and thinks _that mouth has also brought off Jack_.

 

There are so many bylaws she’s breaking.

 

* * *

 

The way Lardo meets Camilla Collins is she runs into her in the kitchen of the Haus one afternoon. Lardo passes her, standing slightly listlessly by the kitchen bench, and takes a soda out of the fridge. She cracks it open and takes a sip before smacking her lips and saying, “’Sup.”

 

Camilla has perfectly-curled blonde hair, perfectly-curled blonde hair which she tucks behind one ear as she turns to Lardo and says, “Hi.” She waves. Lardo raises her eyebrows; it’s cute. “I’m Camilla.”

“Larissa. Who tricked you in here?”

Camilla smiles, bright and surprised, and laughs a little in a way that reminds Lardo of a four-year-old, scrunched-up nose and all.

“I’m waiting for Jack.”

Lardo hums around another sip of soda. “Sounds about right. You’re definitely too pretty for any of these other idiots.”

 

Jack comes through the door, Lardo fist-bumps him on her way out. And that’s it.

 

* * *

 

Lardo next runs into Camilla during finals, at Annie’s. Camilla is holding binders and coffee, and wearing a peach-colored windbreaker. She has on light-wash jeans and white sneakers, and her hair is swept up in a ponytail tucked through the hole in the baseball cap. She is preppy, and sporty, and vaguely hipster-pastel, and the overall effect is glowy and glossy in a way that has Lardo wanting to order a chai latte.

 

It’s been months since Winter Screw, and Lardo has been quietly and privately living on memories of Camilla’s Screw dress (white, fitted, sleeveless. Those _arms_ ). They hadn’t spoken, though. Screw had been an Art Friends night for Lardo, and had ended well enough – lazy making out and some dry humping with her date, a printmaking student. Lardo had gone down on her, a little half-assed, and she’d fucked Lardo with clumsy fingers.

 

Now, as Camilla says, “Larissa!” and sounds so genuinely pleased to see her, Lardo wishes that she’d done more than just smile and wave across the room that night.

 

“Haven’t seen you around in a while,” Lardo observes. She pushes back on a wince as she hears it as an accusation. Camilla, though – because Camilla is bright and positive and apparently takes everything in stride – just huffs a soft laugh and tucks her binder closer to her chest.  
“Yeah, well, you know how it is. Finals. And the season. And Jack’s busy too, so.” She shrugs, but seems unbothered, her gentle smile still playing about her lips. “It’s for the best, for both of us.”

 

Lardo blinks, but nods in a way she hopes communicates something like _ah, yes. This is not new information. I’ve known all along that you broke up._

 

“I’m glad I ran in to you, actually.” Lardo pushes down on the bubble of heat she feels in her gut at those words, on the grin twitching its way onto her face. She settles for humming inquisitively. “I was going to ask Jack for your number, but that seemed… insensitive, I suppose. I don’t know. But would you mind? I mean, if I texted you some time? We could get coffee, or… Jack said you like froyo.”

 

Lardo is nodding and handing over her phone before she can think about it, and sending Camilla a late-night froyo invite before she considers anything, and paying for both their yogurts before she lets her brain catch up to her, and kissing the strawberry flavoring from Camilla’s lips before the words _bad idea_ can really take root.

 

The whirlwind of it all is maybe only part of the reason why it takes another four months before Lardo remembers that Jack and Camilla used to… something. Remembers it with Camilla’s tongue laving over her clit, no less. At least, Lardo tells herself as she traces fingertips over Camilla’s stomach while they lie next to each other in a post-coital haze, the whirlwind is a better explanation than guilt.

 

* * *

 

“I mean, Bits’ parents are… you know. So yeah, uh, we made out during the fireworks on Fourth, but honestly that house is the least sexual place I’ve ever been in my life.”

 

Lardo snorts. “I feel like most sane people would say ‘men’s locker room’ fills that role. Continue, though.”

 

Jack clicks his tongue, maybe on the verge of disagreeing, but then just hums and keeps talking.

“Anyway, yeah, he came up here a couple weeks before you guys started. It was good.” There’s no disguising the grin in his voice.  
“You horndog,” Lardo deadpans.  
Jack chuckles. “That’s all I’m telling you, though. I know we usually…” He makes a filler noise, a little grunt, and pauses. “I don’t know if Bits would be fine with me telling you this.”

“That’s cool. I’ll just ask him about it.” Jack laughs again, and there’s a rustling in the background of the call, like sheets. It’s late. He’s probably getting in to bed.

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

“Need an objective opinion on that Zimmerdick from somewhere. Seems unfair that I only ever get one side of the story.”

“No shame, eh? Maybe I’ll just hit up Shitty and give you a little taste of your own medicine.”

“I mean, sure. You should also ask Holster what it’s like to fuck Ransom, while you’re at it.”

 

Jack goes quiet, and there’s another shifting of sheets down the line. When he speaks, it’s slow and a bit murmured.

“I can’t really tell if you’re joking or not.”

Lardo tries for flippant. It comes out hard-edged. “I’m all for asking people shit they won’t know about.”

“Oh.”

 

That’s all he seems ready to say. The gap in conversation stretches enough to be uncomfortable. Lardo fidgets with the duck-shaped pillow sitting in her lap. There’s a small bang out in the hallway, possibly Bitty closing his door. Lardo swallows.

“Listen, it’s not –”

“I didn’t mean –”

 

They start and stop at the same time, both breaking off with a sigh when they realize. Jack’s silent again, though, so Lardo tries once more.

“It’s not your fault, dude. If he didn’t say anything to you, I don’t know why you’d know. I just kind of assumed he had.” She can’t help shrugging, even though he can’t see her.

He sighs another time. “That sucks, man.”

“Well. You know.”

 

It would be a good opportunity to tell him, really. To explain that the _whatever_ with Shitty had just been a muddle of misinterpreted feelings, and her momentary grief over him graduating had been pretty easily soothed away by Camilla’s magical fucking fingers ( _fucking_ as both epithet and verb). But then Jack’s giving goodbyes and excuses, and hanging up to call Bitty – “he just got home, he texted me” – and, well, Lardo’s never been one to impose.

 

Instead of telling Jack she’s been fucking Camilla Collins, she puts on a hoodie and a pair of sneakers and goes to do exactly that.

 

* * *

 

Camilla’s back is defined, and the muscles shift beneath Lardo’s hands. The lower part sways in, and there are two dimples bracketing her spine. Her waist is a taper, and her shoulders are broad on her frame, and Lardo loves the drag of her paintbrush across Camilla’s bronzed skin. There’s a birthmark under her left shoulder-blade, an ovular splotch. Lardo covers it over with a green triangle.

 

She picks earthy colors and bold shapes, chaotic tessellation, deliberate opposition to the pastels and soft pleats that usually cover Camilla’s body.

 

When the design is finished, Camilla crosses to the mirror in the corner of Lardo’s room and cranes over her shoulder to see. The way she twists makes her hip jut out, pulls the muscle of her thigh taut. Lardo watches, cross-legged on the floor. She meets Camilla’s eyes in the mirror.

 

“I like it. It’s sort of like… do you remember that music video, with guy whose name was really weird? And the girl with the hair like this?” She turns back to face Lardo, and mimes a line of bangs across her forehead. “That song got played to _death_. It was really cool, though.”

 

She crosses the room and crouches down in front of where Lardo sits, leaning forward on her haunches to press their lips together. They trade nibbles and licks, Lardo sucking on Camilla’s bottom lip, plunging deep and wet with her tongue. She doesn’t reach for her, but shuffles forward slightly to bring them closer together. Camilla’s teeth scrape her tongue slightly, and then her lips, and then she’s pulling away and settling back.

 

“It’s really pretty,” she tells Lardo, looking over her shoulder once more to appraise her back in the mirror, paint messy and sparse as it gives way to the swell of her ass where its nestled on her feet tucked beneath her. The pads of her toes are a little dirty, dusted with whatever is on Lardo’s floor. She looks back, and pushes a curl behind her ear.

 

Lardo wants to kiss her again.

 

“Who else have you painted?”

Lardo spreads a hand over Camilla’s spread thigh, bare and thick with the way she’s kneeling. Her skin is warm. Lardo hums.

“Shits, obviously. He made me do his dick like a candy cane.” Camilla laughs lightly, brightly, so Lardo keeps going, shifting closer and sliding her hand higher. “I did Ransom in shades of blue and purple, with like… swirls. That was rad. And, uh, Jack. Lots of red.”

Camilla covers Lardo’s hand with her own. “What kind of shapes?”

“No shapes, really. Just like, shifting colors, all orange and red. Some black. A little bit of yellow. Kind of like a Rothko.”

The noise Camilla makes is interested, an uptick with a bit of surprise. “Sounds perfect for him, actually.”

 

Lardo snorts, and fights down on her smile. “I’ve been meaning to ask, actually.” She leaves it there, but raises what she hopes is a significant eyebrow.

Camilla raises her own in return. “Are you looking for _deets_?” Her tone is slightly mocking, but mostly carries that genuine openness that Lardo has come to know.

“I already got his. I mean, anonymized and everything,” she adds when a small furrow appears between Camilla’s eyes, “but still. Once I learned what that mouth can do, it wasn’t hard to put two-and-two together.”

Camilla makes a small _hmm_ noise – not upset, or dismissive, only curious – but drops her gaze to their joined hands on her leg.

“How do you feel about that, though? Knowing what you know…” She trails off, her mouth making a brief downturn. When she continues, it’s decisive. “You’re really close.”

“He’s one of my best friends,” Lardo agrees.

Camilla nods. “I mean, that wasn’t… This is different. It’s a different kind of thing, so you can’t really _compare_ or, or… Like, we both knew what it was. Mostly. Even if we didn’t talk about it.”

“Jack doesn’t talk about much.” She sounds dry. Her swallow is a little forced. “Can I – uh. Should I tell him? About this?”

 

Camilla’s lips are stung red and full, and when she smiles full her eye teeth are too long and poke out a bit. Her eyelashes are blonde, but they catch the light. She meets Lardo’s eyes again.

“You can tell him whatever you want. It’s up to you.”

 

* * *

 

Jack’s couch could maybe fit four of Lardo lined up head-to-toe, two on one length and two on the other. She takes advantage of the fact and spread-eagles with her feet poking into Jack’s leg, and her hands pushing into the armrest. He wraps one of her feet in a warm hand, just contact.

“Bits’ feet are ticklish. He always tries to lie like that, let me rub his feet, but – he can’t do it without twitching. He accidentally kicked me in the jaw, once.” He smiles, seemingly to himself, and murmurs, “It was really cute.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re a damn sap, Zimmermann.” She sighs and stretches as much as she can, back curving a little off the cushions. “I want to die on this couch, dude.”

“Well, as long as you don’t make a mess.”

She digs her foot into his leg, as retaliation.

 

They’re used to being quiet around each other, so it falls easily. The sound of the shower running in the depths of Jack’s apartment, and the occasional rise of Bitty’s voice as he sings, are all that fill it.

 

Lardo counts to thirty.

 

“Thanks for letting me come up.”

“No problem.”

“I know you probably wanted some alone-time.” She looks to him to find he’s looking back, and waggles her eyebrows. He smirks. That could be it, but.

 

But.

 

“You know Camilla?”

“Camilla Collins? Nice girl.”

“ _Yeah_.” She draws out the word, turning it into several things, even to her own ears. Her teeth dig into her lip a few times, gnawing a little. She lets it loose on a sigh. “What happened with you guys?”

 

A chanced look to Jack again shows he’s harboring a slight frown. With the twist in his mouth, it betrays considered thought more than anything.

“We went out a couple times, I guess – Winter Screw, too – but mostly just hooked up. She got it. She was busy too, eh, with tennis and stuff. I remember us eating a lot of chicken tenders together.”

Lardo doesn’t even try to cover her snort. She is more than familiar with Camilla’s after-sex protein needs.

“Did you know…” She has to swallow, sticky as it goes. “Did you know she dated girls too?”

“I didn’t, no,” Jack says, easy. Light. “But we didn’t really talk about much aside from sport. Maybe we had more in common than I realized.” He grants Lardo with a wry look that forces a bark of laughter out of her. She kneads her feet into his leg.

 

In the depths of the apartment, the water shuts off, Bitty’s singing coming through louder. Jack casts a look down the hall, expression gone over all soft. Lardo pokes him with her toe, more deliberately this time.

 

“Hey.”

He looks back to her, expectant, and open. She takes a steeling breath.

“I’m dating her. Camilla, I mean. We’re dating.”

To Jack’s credit, his expression of surprise is fleeting and barely there. Within a second, he’s grinning at her with no show of restraint.

“You horndog,” he tells her.

“Shut up, bro.”

 

When Bitty emerges from the shower, whistling and toweling his hair, he finds them sitting in silence, Jack with gaze trained on a golf game on TV, Lardo scrolling through her phone.

“I swear, anyone’d think you two hated each other, for all you communicate.” He throws his towel at Jack’s face, but it’s deftly caught and thrown back. Bitty squawks, but catches it, smiling.

 

Lardo grins between them both.

“Bits, trust. He tells me everything.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope that you liked it. Feel free to comment and/or share, if you did!  
> (*♡∀♡)


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